Cruelty's Kiss
by Cressida Isolde
Summary: Hawke is fascinated by Fenris's pain and power. She can't quite figure out what she really feels about him, but she's going to make damn sure she has fun finding out. The darker side of F!Hawke/Fenris.
1. Chapter 1

I've never wanted to write fanfiction for BioWare games before (because I never want to change anything :[ ), but this wouldn't get out of my head. This is probably a one-shot.

* * *

In all the years that Fenris had lived in Kirkwall, he'd never bothered to do any more than inhabit the mansion. He didn't _live_ in it, exactly, he'd never cleaned up the broken crockery or do as much as wipe the cobwebs out of the corners. It was dark and cold and there was a window open _somewhere _and the breeze wound through the empty rooms like a keening shade.

"Why do you even bother?" asked Hawke. She stretched out her legs towards the fire. "Just move into my place. It's so _empty_ with Beth and... well." She made the effort to straighten her back and square her shoulders. "With Beth and Mother gone."

"I can't leave it," Fenris said. "Not yet."

"What if Danarius never comes for you?" She quirked an eyebrow. "It's been years. Will you just sit in here waiting until the chairs rot and you have to sit on the floor?"

"He will come. He knows where I am. He must." Fenris looked away. "I don't know why he's waiting," he said, quietly.

"It sounds like you _want _him to come." A smile played at the corners of Hawke's mouth. "Do you miss him that badly?"

A flash of anger in those golden eyes let her know he'd touched a nerve. She hid her growing smile behind a sip of the glass of wine in her hand.

"I do not 'miss him'." Fenris growled.

"But you still can't let go of him enough to move on," said Hawke. "You can't _be_ an escaped slave forever. Sitting up here in this huge empty mansion all alone, just waiting for the day your master comes along and takes you back. It's odd, really."

"What else would you have me do?" Fenris snarled. Hawke could see the lyrium markings on Fenris' skin start to glow, just a little. He probably didn't even know it was happening. Hawke leaned forward a little.

"I've never been a free man." He stood up, agitated, and walked to the fire. He leaned against the mantelpiece, staring into the flames.

"You've never even thought about what you want before, have you? Instead of what your master wants." She watched his slender, muscular back as he stood motionless.

He sighed, a barely audible sound against the crackling of the fire. "No. I haven't. I - I don't even know where to start."

Hawke smiled. "I don't think I can give you step-by-step instructions on how to build a life, but, ah, how about this: pick something, anything, that you want, and then work towards getting it."

He turned back to look at her, wordless.

"It doesn't have to be something big," she said, with a shrug. "I wouldn't advise you to jump straight to 'revenge on Danarius'. You could get a cat or something."

"Sounds more like Anders," he said, with what was almost a snarl. "I'm not someone to keep an animal caged. Thanks all the same."

"I think maybe you're just not ready for something that loves you and depends on you." She saw a flicker of confusion pass over his face before he turned back to the fire. She stood, and walked over to stand next to him. The heat from the flames was comforting.

"How do you think Danarius would feel if he knew that not a day goes by that you don't think about him? That he's constantly on your mind; that he colours your very existence." She narrowed her eyes. "Or do you think he knows that already?"

She reached out for him, the skin of his arm where the lyrium glowed brightest. He flinched, but did not pull away. She traced a line with a finger, barely touching him, as the glowing vein moved over his skin, twisting and weaving.

"What did he _do_ to you?" she murmured, half to herself.

Fenris was holding himself perfectly still. She looked away from the markings, up to his face.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked.

"Would you stop if I said yes?"

She dropped her hand and took a step back.

"You weren't," he said. His eyes were wary. "I just wasn't sure."

She shrugged again and started for the door. "My offer still stands. If you're interested." She was almost to the foyer when Fenris spoke.

"You wouldn't care about what people said?" he asked cautiously, hesitantly. "About us... living together?"

She gave a decidedly unladylike snort of laughter. "Of course not. I can't imagine what people would say that they don't already. Honestly, I'm so bored there that if you don't move in I'll have to ask Gamlen to, and then he'll have his terrible friends over at all hours and I'll have to count the silverware twice daily." She gave him a sly smile. "In any case, it's up to you."

"I will... think on it," he said.

She smiled as she closed the front door of the mansion behind her. She knew he wouldn't.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up from being in the Fade felt like she was being born tearing, wrenching sensation of being pulled from somewhere

She woke up gasping, and after her heart finally stopped racing, she looked around for the others. Anders was sitting up, shifting uncomfortably as if he were trying to shake off the spirit inside him. Isabela was stretching languorously. She caught Hawke's eye and gave her an apologetic smile and a shrug. But Fenris – Fenris was sitting at the end of the cot, knees on his elbows and hunched over. He wouldn't look at her.

"Right," she said, standing. "That went... interestingly."

Anders looked at her, Justice's glow fading from his eyes. "You see how quick he is to turn on you?"

Fenris made no indication he'd even heard.

She sighed. "That's really nothing to do with you at all, Anders. Anyway. I suppose we should tell the keeper the good news."

She didn't look back.

* * *

It was late that evening when Hawke found herself walking the familiar path to Fenris' mansion. He didn't answer her tap on the door, so she let herself in.

She found him slumped in front of the fire, one hand hanging low by his side, next to a bottle of wine. She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close.

"Fenris," she said playfully. "Don't tell me you're still bothered by what happened earlier?"

"I –" he began. "I failed you. I'm sorry."

She straightened up and moved to stand in front of him, her back to the flames. "It's fine," she said, with a shrug. "But..."

He watched her warily, waiting tensely for her next words.

"You know, I think I rather expected it from Bela," she said thoughtfully. "She's really made no secret of her desire to get back out on the sea." She looked out the window at the moonlit city beneath. "But then again, you've hardly concealed your desire for revenge, have you?"

He looked down at the stone beneath his feet. "I... disappoint myself," he said, haltingly. "I was... weak."

"Was that what it was?" she asked. "Weakness? It almost doesn't feel real, now."

"That it does not," agreed Fenris, still subdued.

She studied the alien slopes of his face, his high cheekbones and straight elven nose. "You really are the last person I'd expect to fall victim to a demon's promise."

He looked up at her, and then away again. "I am surprised myself," he admitted.

"And you are not as easy opponent to beat." She smiled wryly. "I would not wish to face you again."

"You will not have to," he said quietly.

"I would hope," she said, folding her arms. "That you now find it easier to see why mages agree to these bargains. If they're desperate, it's their only way out. And if they're persuasive enough to turn _you _against _me_... well."

His golden eyes flashed with anger, and she realised with some amusement that she'd pushed too hard.

"Only mages can become abominations. It's not overreacting to say that they need to be controlled."

"Except for those templars we ran into," she said offhandedly.

"The demons were still planted by mages." His glare felt almost as hot as the flames against the back of her legs.

"Say what you like about mages," she shrugged. "But my sister has never made a deal with a demon and then tried to kill me."

And the glare was gone. What was in its place? Hurt, maybe. Shame. He looked away. "Why are you here? To forgive me? I don't want it."

"I came here to see how you w-"

Fenris stood up, so violently he knocked his chair over behind him.

"What do you want from me?" he snarled, taking a step forwards. Hawke took an involuntary step back to compensate and bumped against the wall next to the fire.

"An apology?" he continued. "A vow that I'll never betray you again? Do you want me to beg on my knees for your forgiveness?"

She watched him calmly, but her heart was racing. He kept coming closer until their faces were only inches apart.

"Do you know what a tame wolf is, Hawke?" he asked, voice filled with venom. "A dog. And I am _not_ your dog."

"Fenris," she breathed. She reached out a hand to touch his hip through his armour. He grasped her hand – such strength in those slender fingers – and slammed it against the wall over her head.

"You cannot control me that easily."

She leaned her head back against the wall, as if she were offering her throat for him to bite. "I already own a dog, Fenris. I have no need of another one."

The anger on his face faded, and he turned away.

"Just leave, Hawke," he said. "I'm not in the mood to play these games with you."

When he turned around next she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

This has become something of a miniseries. My stories tend to run away without me a little sometimes.

And thank you for the reviews!

* * *

"Why don't you talk about your mother?"

Hawke raised a confused eyebrow at the question. She and Fenris lay together in her bed, almost touching but not quite. His arm was under the pillow she was resting on, her hand lying inches from his side.

The fire burning brightly in the fireplace made the room almost uncomfortably warm. Too warm for clothes, certainly.

"Do you... want me to talk about her?" She gave him a brittle smile. "What would I say?"

"You've never said a word to me about it," he said. "Or anyone else as far as I can tell."

Hawke struggled to sit up, propping herself up on the bed's pillows. "Um. Well, she – uh, what?"

He smiled at seeing her so off-balance. "I thought you might need to tell someone about it."

"I don't want to talk about it. She's dead. That's not going to change."

Fenris was studying her with more than his usual scrutiny. Her nakedness suddenly felt like a vulnerability.

"You just keep it all in your head." He brushed a strand of hair from her face.

She shuffled back a little until she was out of his reach. "It was... a while ago," she said, haltingly. "I don't really think about it much any more."

He gave her a long look, and then rolled away from her to sit up on the other side of the bed. He reached for his armour. "If you say so," he said, back turned. He shrugged. "You don't let many people get close to you."

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see. "They tend to die horribly," she said. "Don't leave."

He paused, though he didn't turn to look at her. "Is that an order?" His voice was tight.

"It's... a request." She pulled the sheet up to cover herself, and frowned at his curious glance.

"I don't talk about it," she said. "Because it makes me angry that I didn't do better." She issued the words like a challenge.

He turned back, wordless. His gaze was piercing. She lowered her eyes to the sheets.

"I wish I could have got there sooner," she continued, quieter. "He said that she thought I'd show up in time to rescue her. And I should have." She risked a cautious glance up. "I'm glad I got to say goodbye, at least. Didn't get to do that with Carver, it was over too fast."

Her eyes grew distant. "What's actually strange about the whole thing is that I think I actually miss Carver more. When we were young we used to sort of... gang up on Beth. She always got a lot of attention. From Father, particularly. And we had to move a lot to keep her safe, and it wasn't always easy."

Fenris nodded, one fingertip tracing along the bones ofher ribcage and down to her hip. She caught him by the wrist with one hand and turned it over to look at the lyrium lines on his palm, stretching out to each finger. "That's really not the way to keep me talking."

He smiled.

She laughed. "Carver and I used to have these huge battles where we both pretend to be mages and we'd stand out in the field and throw things at each other, like clumps of dirt or a handful of pebbles or a bunch of leaves crushed into a ball. And Beth wasn't allowed to play because we made it pretend-only." She frowned. "I'd forgotten that. It seems silly now. Children acting out what they don't understand."

"It's interesting hearing about your family."

"You don't remember anything about yours?" She almost leaped at the chance to deflect the questions back to him, and he acknowledged it, too, with a quirked eyebrow, but let it pass.

"Sometimes I think I remember things," he said. "The way the light hits the sea in the morning, or a glimpse of someone's hair from a distance, and it reminds me of something – but it never goes any deeper than that. And then it's gone. Like waking up from a dream."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't know anything about your family. Can you miss what you cannot remember?"

He smiled scornfully. "One of the leftover habits of slavery," he said. "It's best not to think about things you cannot change."

"You wear that bitterness like armour." She reached out and touched his bare shoulder softly.

"It protects me from any number of things," he said. "Hope, mostly."

She winced. "You have a... sister," she said. "That's what that mage woman said, wasn't it? Why not look for her?"

He took a long time to answer. "I have been making enquiries," he said, guardedly.

Her eyes widened. "And have you found anything?"

"Nothing," he said. "Not really. Nothing for certain, anyway."

"I'd like to meet her, if you ever do find her," she said. "It must be strange. I can't imagine what it's like to not remember your family, or being a child, or what you liked doing when you were young. Only knowing that you're a slave and that being a slave hurts."

He gave her a sharp look. "I don't need your pity."

"It wasn't pity." She stretched her arms above her head. "It was curiosity. You're a mystery, Fenris. An _enigma_. A puzzle. A – um, an oddity? A pecul-"

Her words were cut off as he suddenly leaped and pinned her beneath him. "You, my little hawk, need to learn when to stop squawking."

"Hawkes do not squawk," she said with mock indignity. "We-"

He cut her off with a kiss. "Now would be the time."

She grinned, and raised her face to kiss him.


	4. Chapter 4

SO META.

Also in this chapter: I mercilessly abuse italics.

* * *

There was nothing Isabela liked so much as a captive audience. "So we're dueling twenty feet above decks, right, both clinging onto the rigging. I'm holding a dagger between my teeth, and _he_ says: "You fight like a dairy farmer". And I said: "What an absolutely terrible insult", and then he stabbed me in the leg."

"I believe the appropriate response is: "How appropriate, you fight like a cow,"" said Fenris. "That's where you went wrong."

"How does that even make sense?" Isabela asked.

"I suppose cows are naturally docile creatures?" he hazarded.

"Ha," said Isabela. "You've clearly never met a group of rampaging Rivaini Bulls. It'd be an honour to be compared to them. Well, sort of."

"Your voice does things to me that it has no right to," purred Hawke, watching Fenris through half-closed eyes. ""Naturally docile". Say it again."

He turned back to her with a smile. "You're in a good mood."

She wrinkled her nose. "Considering."

"Shit crystals," said Isabela, disbelievingly. "If you'd told me we were collecting shit crystals I wouldn't have come. Simple as that."

"I specifically didn't tell you in advance because I wanted something nice to look at while we were down here collecting shit crystals." Hawke said, teasing. "You can't blame me for that."

"Don't be greedy," pouted Isabela. "You already have a pretty elf to play with. Although I really am with you on that voice."

Hawke smiled. "I should have him give monologues all day long." She put a hand on Fenris' back as they walked, and let it slide down the gentle curve to the base of his spine. She imagined her fingertips could feel the lyrium tattoos under the leather.

"More like you could hire him out to the Blooming Rose where he could provide commentary services."

Hawke almost choked laughing. "Dear Maker. I could have financed three Deep Roads trips in half the time."

"So what's that phasing thing like?" Isabela asked innocently. "That seems like it could be... interesting."

"I might, uh, not answer that one," said Hawke. "For now, at least."

"If only there were some way," Isabela said. "That the three of us could come to some sort of... arrangement."

"Intriguing," said Hawke. "I am, by nature, incredibly possessive, however. It may not end well."

Fenris raised a dark eyebrow. "Do I get any say in this?"

"Yes," said Hawke. "But I haven't decided what your opinion is going to be yet." She smiled innocently. He turned away.

Anders held up a hand for them to stop, and crouched over another pile of waste.

"Spare a thought for the poor mage who is apparently going to mix this up with some sort of rock powder and then drink it." Hawke frowned in distaste.

"Ugh," said Isabella. "Yes. Anders, do you really want to be free of Justice this badly?"

"It's something that needs to be done," he replied. "No matter how unpleasant it may seem."

"One less abomination in the world can hardly be a bad thing," said Fenris. Hawke couldn't stop a smile. Fenris was nothing if not direct. Sometimes it seemed as if he actually enjoyed having a tame mage handy for him to take out his anger on. Well, mostly tame, anyway.

Anders rose to the bait, as usual, but instead of turning on Fenris, he turned on _her_.

"You waste your time with this bigot," he snapped.

"I am _right here_," said Fenris. "If you have something to say, say it to me."

"I'll say _plenty_ to-"

"Quiet." Hawke interrupted. "Anders," she watched him calmly. "Do you suggest I find an alternative?"

"I _suggest_ that you find someone more open minded. You have no shortage of potential suitors."

"To be completely fair to Fenris," she said politely. "We have run into rather a lot of blood mages recently, wouldn't you agree?"

"Neither you nor he should judge all mages by the actions of a few!" There was a glow in his eyes that was starting to brighten.

"It's hardly been "a few", though, has it?" She grinned. "There's been – let's see. The one who killed my mother. His apprentice. Mostly all the runaway Circle mages that we've met. The woman who left those evil spell-books everywhere. And a fair number that just seem to summon a rampaging demon at the first sign of trouble." She laughed. "Honestly, Anders, each day that goes past I think Meredith is overreacting less and less."

Anders seemed to make an effort to gain complete control over his body. "You are the last person I would have expected to say that."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do."

"Apparently not," he said. "We're done here. Thanks for your help." He walked off into the darkness.

"I didn't know you felt that way," said Fenris quietly.

"I won't have him speak to you that way," she said. "I'm sick of it. As for mages - well." She shrugged. "Nothing I said was an untruth."

Isabela raised an eyebrow. "At least now we can get back to your true calling – liberating torn trousers from their wooden prisons."

Hawke laughed self-consciously. "It's a habit I never really could break," she said. "I think I'm afraid that one day I'll have to start over again."

"You don't see most nobles digging through the trash," said Isabela. "Still, at least you know the value of a copper, I suppose. Anyway, let's leave. This place smells awful."

They followed her to the exit.


	5. Chapter 5

It's weird when you start writing at the end, and then have to work your way back to put things together. Not long to go.

* * *

"She's a tailor."

Hawke raised her eyebrows politely. "So... she makes, uh, dresses and things like that? That's... good?"

"I mean she's not a slave." Fenris was pacing, eyes bright and feverish. "Don't you see? She's free. She belongs only to herself."

"Oh. That's great," she said. "Don't your feet get cold?"

"_Hawke_," he said. "Please. This is important to me."

She nodded absently. "So she's free, you're not. How does that work? I sort of always assumed slavery was more or less hereditary."

"An odd choice of words," he said, looking at her doubtfully. "But... you're right. If a slave has children, they become slaves also."

"So how did your sister free herself? Did she make a particularly good pair of trousers? Some socks perhaps?"

"I don't know," he said distantly. "I almost don't want to find out." He leaned on the chair he was standing behind. "This isn't easy."

"No," said Hawke. "No, I suppose it isn't. Are you going to go and see her?"

He frowned. "No. I – I sent her money for the journey. She's coming here." His eyes were luminous and hesitant. "I'm not sure this is wise."

"No, that sounds great! Invite her round to my place for drinks. It'll be great fun."

"I'm not comfortable bringing her to – to your house. I'm not sure that Danarius isn't behind all this."

She smiled up at him. "You're too paranoid," she said. "You can't believe that good things can happen to you."

He pushed himself away from the chair and began pacing again. He paused by the fire, watching the flames.

"You might be right," he admitted. "Just... when you've been running away from something for so long, it – you never stop thinking about how to stay safe. How to protect yourself. How to get away if you have to. How you can't trust anyone."

"You trust me, don't you?" she asked.

He turned and looked at her for a long time before answering, and then nodded once.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "She may not even come."

"I think anyone would be curious about a long-lost brother," said Hawke. "Does she know you were a slave?"

"I've told her a little." He walked to the window and looked out into the darkness. "She knows why I'm here. She hasn't-" he paused. "She hasn't asked me much about my life here."

Hawke watched him as he stood by the window, outlined by the light of the moon.

"She has sent word that our mother is dead," he said. "Is it odd that I should not feel anything? No sense of loss, or grief. Nothing. It's just another fact. Something else I have learnt about who I used to be."

"I don't know," said Hawke. "Your existence is honestly something I can't comprehend. How it must be to be you. You don't have any sort of frame of reference for who you are." She grinned. "I'm not that great at empathy, to be honest."

Fenris didn't answer.

"Do you think she looks like you?" asked Hawke. "She wouldn't have white hair, would she? I've only seen that in – well, old elves before. Is it because of the lyrium?"

"I assume so," he said. "If there was one thing Danarius did to keep me, it was to prevent me from blending in anywhere else."

"I can't imagine you as just a normal-looking elf," she said. "You do cut rather an imposing figure. I wonder what your life would have been like if you'd been born in one of our cities. You'd grow up in an alienage, get kicked around by the dregs of human society and probably die an early death of disease. Or, knowing you, more likely you'd stand up to the wrong type of person, get stabbed and bleed out in a deserted back alley." She shrugged. "Just speculation."

Fenris' eyes were troubled. "Perhaps," he said. "Why bother thinking about it?"

"I was just thinking," she replied. "There's not much justice to be found anywhere. My point was, though, that I still imagine you'd still be bitter as anything, just about how humans are all terrible and oppressive instead of just one human in particular."

Fenris laughed darkly. "And what would be left of me if I had nothing to hate?" he said harshly. He sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't see my sister. This girl I have nothing in common with but blood. I don't know what she can give me."

"You do want to know what you used to be like before the lyrium, don't you?"

"I'm starting to think there is little point." He sighed. "What's done is done, she can't change that any more than I can."

"Don't be silly," Hawke said. "She's a part of you. A part of the puzzle-that-is-Fenris."

"Don't start with that again," he murmured, sitting down at the table opposite her. "But when – if she does come to Kirkwall... Would you come with me to see her?"

"Of course," said Hawke. She took his hand, cold from the night air "Name a time and a place, I'll bring the whole gang."

"I would really rather you didn't," said Fenris. "But thanks for the offer."


	6. Chapter 6

I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with the way this came out. This whole thing is sort of experimental.

* * *

The way the red-headed sister wouldn't look Fenris in the eye put Hawke on guard. She reached for the blade at her back casually, smoothly so it wouldn't put the sister on edge.

"Start backing away," she murmured. "Towards the door, quickly."

Varric was the only one who listened, and started moving back, one hand behind him seeking the furniture to avoid knocking it.

Isabela pulled both her blades free with the sound of tearing silk. "I don't think so."

Fenris turned to her, golden eyes large and questioning. "What is it?"

"Just _go_," she hissed.

"My little wolf."

Fenris froze at the sound of the voice. His eyes were pleading, panicked. He spun back to his sister.

"You," Fenris snarled. "You act as bait for your own brother?"

Varania turned away, eyes downcast.

Hawke stepped in front of Fenris as Danarius walked down the stairs.

"You've found a new mistress already?" he asked Fenris. "I suppose I should be hurt. But then again, I can't fault your taste. The Champion of Kirkwall. You always did need a firm hand." He shrugged an elegant shoulder and turned to Hawke. "Some slaves are like that."

Hawke forced a lazy smile. "I've heard a lot about you. I rather thought you'd be more imposing in person."

Danarius seemed genuinely amused. "Has he been telling tales about me? Should I be flattered?"

"He hasn't told me nearly as much as I wanted to hear."

He laughed. "You know you can't believe everything a slave tells you. They can be such gossips."

"I only really know the one," Hawke said, almost apologetically. "I don't have much of a frame of reference."

Danarius looked at her curiously. "You know, I really am grateful to you for taking such good care of my property, but I do have to ask for him back."

"No," she said. "He's mine."

Danarius sighed theatrically. "And there we are. Just when I thought we might get along." He reached for his staff. "I can't blame you for getting attached. He is rather... talented."

"Maybe I could compensate you in some way," said Hawke, musing.

The words stopped him dead. She smiled at him, calm.

"What?" growled Fenris. "You can't _buy_ me. He needs to die."

She held up a hand, still looking at Danarius. "Quiet," she said.

"What did you have in mind, exactly?" asked Danarius.

She smiled brightly. "Well," she said. "Obviously I would have to cover the costs of the lyrium. I understand warriors of Fenris' calibre are rare, so there's that... and to be honest I don't know what a slave goes for, these days. Why don't you name a figure that would cover your costs?"

"That really is remarkably open-minded of you, but I am really quite attached to him. Besides, the lyrium alone would cost – oh, say two, maybe three hundred sovereigns."

Hawke sighed. "I could raise that, but not within the next month or so. And I doubt you're planning to stay that long."

He smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid not. Really, it would be easier if you just handed him over now."

She could feel Fenris' eyes on her, burning.

"Hmm," she said. Unfortunate."

"Regrettable," said Danarius.

Her eyes lit up. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I know. What if I gave you someone else?"

"I'm intrigued," he said, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "What do you have to offer?"

"I have a young Dalish blood mage," she said, thoughtfully, "who is causing entirely too much trouble for everyone. She is _very_ sweet and doesn't quite fit in here. Or with her tribe. Maybe it would be good for her."

"That does sound interesting," said Danarius. "However, that doesn't sound completely equal to-"

Hawke cut in. "What if I throw in an Eluvian?" she asked. "She thinks she can get it to work."

Danarius' raised an eyebrow. "'Work'? We do have 'working' Eluvians in the Empire, you know."

"Oh no, working _properly_. Not just to communicate. She said it might be some sort of portal." She smiled. "I appreciate it's a bit of a gamble. She's not as strong as Fenris, but she's equally deadly, believe me."

Danarius cocked his head to one side. "I... may regret this, but... alright. I accept."

"That's great! She lives in the Alienage down the street." Hawke indicated with her hand. "In the corner. If you tell her I sent you, she'll probably go right along with you."

Danarius looked searchingly into her eyes. "It has been... interesting to deal with you, Champion. I will follow your exploits with interest."

Hawke inclined her head politely. "Best of luck," she said. He started to leave. "Oh, wait," she said. "How about giving him his memories back? I know they're still in there."

"You're pushing your luck," Danarius said, as if he were scolding a mischievous child. "But – why not?"

He extended a hand, and a halo of blue light surrounded Fenris. He made a strangled gasp before dropping to his knees.

Danarius and his entourage left, complete with Fenris' sister.

"Right," said Hawke. "That went better than I expected. How about drinks?"

Isabela was staring, wide-eyed with horror. "What?" she began. "You – you _sold_ Merrill? What have you done? You're a monster!"

She backed towards the door, blades clenched in her fists. "I have to help her. I have to stop this!" She disappeared into the night.

Hawke turned to Varric, who was looking up at her in disbelief. "I don't even know what to say, Hawke."

Hawke grinned. "Varric speechless? Truly an occasion."

He shook his head. "This isn't funny, Hawke. This is... wrong. I hope you know what you're doing." He walked through the inn, back to his rooms.

Hawke looked down at Fenris, who was huddled on the floor, clutching his head. "Just you and me, then," she said with a slow smile. "How romantic."


	7. Chapter 7

Hi! I'd kind of like to apologise for, uh, kind of dropping the last chapter on you. What I was really attempting to do with this piece was to examine abusive relationships and the kind of ownership and control dynamic they have [in the framework of slavery], but I'm also relatively sure that I didn't put enough work into getting it up to that point, which probably made the last chapter... sudden.

I'm really sorry to everyone who was enjoying it up to that point and was disappointed, and I really accept that I didn't signpost the whole thing clearly enough in any fashion. I see I may have been a little too ambitious. Thanks to those that reviewed, I really appreciate honest criticism and I'm also writing something slightly - well, nicer. But I also won't mind if you don't want to read anything else I write!

Anyway, my point is: Sorry, guys. Still learning.

I should also probably warn you now that this story doesn't really end in what I would really call justice. You might not enjoy it.

* * *

Hawke rolled her eyes. "I wasn't aware that you were so fond of the idea of a blood mage running around Kirkwall unchecked."

"That's not the _point_," snarled Fenris. He stood over her as she sat in her usual chair in his mansion."You sold her into slavery. You haven't heard a single word I've ever said to you!"

His lyrium markings were glowing. She couldn't stop watching them.

"Merrill was dangerous. Maker, that _mirror_." She wrinkled her nose. "Just looking at it gave me the creeps."

He laughed, a harsh, desperate sound. "So you thought that selling her was the best way to solve it? I would not wish that life upon anyone."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you suggesting that it would have been preferable to let her become an abomination? I make no claim to be a soothsayer, but there was only one possible outcome for her if left on that path. I _tried _asking her to stop it. Telling her that nothing good would come of it. So did the Keeper, her entire clan. _Everyone_ was against her, and still she thinks 'oh no, it's just a demon, I can handle it'. That's stupid _and_ dangerous, and I'm not going to be swayed by how nice she was."

She pushed her chair back and stood up.

"I got her out of the area, and as far as I'm concerned that is a damned favour to Kirkwall. There are so many blood mages here already, and the Veil is so thin, it's madness letting another one just wander around. Let that damned mirror spew out demons or darkspawn or whatever it really does in Tevinter, not here."

She reached for her glass of wine, but Fenris grabbed it and dashed it against the wall. "Why didn't we fight? Danarius should be dead, not on his way back to Tevinter!"

She sighed. "We didn't fight, Fenris, because I didn't think we could win."

"What are you talking about?" he growled. "Of course we could have."

"I disagree," she said. "If you were prepared to buy your freedom with my blood, that's fine," she said. "But I wasn't going to make that decision for all of us."

His eyes flickered with doubt.

She sighed. "I didn't take Anders because I assumed he would try and poison whatever reunion you may have had with your sister. Without a healer, I wasn't prepared to gamble our lives. Honestly, it just seemed practical."

"You gave away Merrill because it was practical?" His hands gripped her arms hard, the points of his gauntlets digging into her flesh.

"Yes, because I didn't think we could stand against an incredibly powerful blood mage," she said. "I know you and Merrill weren't friends, so please stop reacting on such an emotional level. I consider it a victory that you're still alive. That's all I care about."

"It's not about Merrill!" His voice was loud in her ears. 'It's about slavery! You don't _sell_ your acquaintances."

"You are free, Fenris," she said irritably. "That's all I wanted to do. I'm sorry if I did it wrong." She attempted to escape Fenris' grasp, but it just tightened.

"I'm not yours. I don't belong to you. You had no right to bargain on my behalf."

"Of course not." She closed her eyes. "You can leave at any time, you know. Just walk out that door and never come back. Go back to being alone. _Again_."

He let her go, and took a step back, light pulsing through his veins.

"I trusted you," he said softly. "With everything. You're not the person I thought you were." He looked towards the door. "I can't stay here."

"Everything I have done has been for you!" she exclaimed. "What will you do instead? Where will you go? You've been in Kirkwall for years. Would you just start again? Run, and see where you get to?"

She wasn't sure what he reminded her of. A wounded animal, perhaps, dangerous and desperate to be free. Caught in a trap, maybe, almost ready to chew his own leg off to escape.

"At least you wouldn't have Danarius on your tail," she said."So how _did_ you get those markings?"

Fenris' blue glow faded, as if the act of focusing on them had turned them off.

"I – don't know. I think there was a... a competition?" he stopped talking, confused.

"You _won_ them?" she asked. "Is that what you're saying?"

He looked down at the lines on his hands. "Yes... I think so."

She laughed. "Oh, that's just great. 'Please rescue me from my master, he forced these markings upon me and I will hate him eternally for it'. You weren't merely a volunteer, you actually beat out other people in order to have them? Am I getting this right?"

He leaped forwards, and grasped a fistful of her shirt. He lifted her from her seat. "Danarius was a monster," he said. "And so are you. He is beyond my reach, but you are not."

He reached inside Hawke's chest.

She gasped in pain. Every muscle in her body went rigid. She couldn't move, couldn't get away, couldn't even fall to the floor. And his hand was cold, so cold, and hurt like no blade slipping through her flesh or tossed fireball had ever hurt her before.

And suddenly it was gone. She collapsed, falling in a boneless heap on the floor.

"I can't kill you," he said, uncertain. Disappointed, almost.

She struggled for breath, forehead resting against the cold stone. She almost expected her heart to stop of its own accord. A whimper was the only sound she could make.

"Hawke," he said, and was gone.

It took her almost an hour to move, and then another to stumble clumsily through the house to the exit. By the time she stepped through her own doorway she almost felt normal, if shaky.

* * *

Some months later she heard a gentle, familiar tap on the front door that quickened her heartbeat. She opened the door uneasily. Fenris stood there, outlined by moonlight. She stumbled back, reaching for a weapon she wasn't wearing, but he didn't move.

He looked up at her, those big golden eyes clouded. "I don't know who I am without you," he said.

She opened the door for him.


End file.
